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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366791">fraternal correspondence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythopoeia/pseuds/Mythopoeia'>Mythopoeia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [206]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A lot - Freeform, And thus ends the Angband Arc, Epistolary, Gen, Melkor lies, luckily for him manwe is dumb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:49:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythopoeia/pseuds/Mythopoeia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Collected from the desk of Manwe Sulimo, Governor of New York, 1852: Two letters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [206]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1300685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 30 November, 1852</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>30 November, 1852<br/>
Mr. Governor—</p>
<p>You will by now be informed of recent events regarding the railroad and the difficulties we have had, since Feanor arrived here at the beginning of the year. As I wrote to you in August, the man himself is dead, but this has not proved the relief I had then prayed it to be. On the contrary, his sons have taken up their father’s feud with impetuous ferocity, and thus the violence has continued unabated. I had hoped by now to have received further militia support, or the cannon I requested in my last letter, but stand thus far disappointed and in dire need.</p>
<p>The latest news of disaster is this: in a recent sortie my lieutenant succeeded in capturing the eldest of Feanor’s sons and I had him for some brief time in custody, but before I could send you word he succeeded in making his escape. This occurred three days ago, and we have only now finished counting our losses. In breaking free he had outside aid, and the result is my fortress, although secure at present, is badly damaged by fire and such Feanorian explosives as I warned you of in the summer. My garrison is similarly weakened: from a force of a few hundred I now have only sixty men, and twenty of those wounded. </p>
<p>Worse: the work on the rail has by necessity halted, for the laborers I had there have, to a man, been either murdered or pressed to join our enemy in seeking the fall of American Government. In this I fear I can see the influence of Thingol to the South, as he has remained defiant and many of the field workers in my employ were of Spanish or Indian blood; yet I have reports from my lieutenants that Fingolfin, Feanor’s brother, was seen at the massacre, and that he and his children have brought west a militia of their own to swell the Feanorian ranks. The threat grows rapidly in strength and severity; what has until now been kept to the skirmishes of rebellion now threatens to become outright war. I dread to think, Manwe, that there might be an alliance brewing between the Feanorians and Doriath, bolstered by what remnants remain from those warlike tribes which I have fought so long to exterminate. We seek as ever to apply the Law of the Constitution upon these savage lands, but Law without Force is left impotent. Without your aid, now, I fear I shall be lost, and all our hopes of civilization with me. </p>
<p>To protect Washington’s interests here in the West, therefore, as well as the civilian populace you have entrusted to my care, I beg of you to send me as many men as you can gather on such short notice, fully armed, and with such provisions as can be spared in case of a siege. I would urge a full battalion, at the least, and cannon to break down the walls of the Feanorian encampment. Ancalagon shall supply me with further workers for the rail, but until this rebellion is put down, of course, no further progress can be made. Only send me weapons, brother—send me soldiers—send me funds. I shall in return secure for you a free and democratic West. </p>
<p>I remain, very respectfully,<br/>
Your obedient servant,<br/>
Melkor Bauglir</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 24 August, 1852</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>24 August, 1852<br/>My Dear Brother-</p>
<p>How long it has been since we last parted—more than half a year. I am pleased to report of my own accord that we mark this brave country with an iron band. I enclose the documentation of our latest revenues. Gold may be the wonder of the west, but our mettle and metal will prove lasting.</p>
<p>Enclosed also find a token I send as proof of what you have no doubt already heard rumor of: Feanor Finwe’s son is dead. He was shot when he sought to set fire to my guardhouse in an ambush, and died on the sixteenth of May. His sons that live are routed, and await now the noose in their own time; we shall have no further trouble there. You may carry my condolences to the madman’s wife, who I understand remained behind in New York. A pity, I might say in confidence, that she could not persuade her menfolk to do the same!</p>
<p>I pray you shall forgive my secretary his poor hand. Gentlemen of learning are not yet as easy to come by here in California as they were in New York. Therein lies our challenge; there too, shall be our victory.</p>
<p>Your affectionate brother,<br/>Melkor Bauglir</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For the first, partial appearance of this letter, see fic #108 in the series: “written with a needle on the corner of an eye”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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